Krennic's Gambit
by Thayin
Summary: My take on the events between the novel Rogue One: Catalyst and A New Hope. I created the main ideas before the release of the Rogue One movie, which is why the events would not be possible as a result of the events of the movie. This is my first attempt at extended writing, I would appreciate any reviews and tips.
1. Chapter 1

"Director Krennic, do you truly believe that the Empire can simply turn a blind eye to the loss of Galen Erso?" Vizier Mas Amedda spat. His voice shot across the expansive desk that formed the centrepiece of the Chagrian's office. A handful of priceless art pieces, undoubtedly gifted to the Vizier by Emperor Palpatine, dotted the surface of the oak, harvested from the only remaining forest of Corsuscant, the material further emphasising the false wealth that the Vizier surrounded himself with. Over his shoulder, unbroken shoals of airspeeders streamed passed the glazed, floor-to-ceiling windows, which kept watch over the higher levels of airspace. Crimson curtains, draped from the ceiling in folds that remembered the secrets of many clandestine meetings, framed the vista.

"Vizier, he was under no obligation to remain. Admittedly, he was important to the weaponisation of the kyber crystal, but he made enough progress for the remaining scientists to interpret and continue his work. This will not be allowed to derail the project," Krennic returned fire. However, these had been tracer rounds- lies, for the most part. Erso was still central to the project. Mere days had passed since his escape, yet work had already stalled. Even the collective minds of the other scientists were incomparable to the might of Galen's brilliance, outshone by his immense intelligence.

Despite the current lack of breakthroughs, Orson Krennic did not fear major repercussions. The fact that it was Amedda, and it the Emperor or Darth Vader who addressed him, implied that this was little but a ceremonial dressing down, a token response that would leave no major changes. Krennic's goal of becoming the Emperor's closest confidante remained unaffected, at least for the present. If no progress occurred within the next weeks, however, that outlook would become far more depressing. "I trust that the search for a new location is proceeding well." Amedda's sudden statement drew Krennic out of his own mind.

"Of course, Vizier. In fact, we are close to finalising a new world: Scarif. It is a suitable distance from inhabited worlds, and has the resources we desire," Krennic replied.

"Excellent. You may leave to continue your work, Director."

Krennic abruptly stood, and turned away from the desk. Flanking both sides of the door, two royal guards, the same crimson hue as the curtains, stood motionless. Such was their discipline, the soldiers would have blended into the fabric, save for their black eye slits. Although Amedda saw them as his own men, Krennic knew that they would just as soon despatch the Vizier by the Emperor's command, than defend him. Krennic bisected the two men, and marched determinedly toward his shuttle, waiting to ferry him to an awaiting Star Destroyer, one of the many bright lights which pock-marked Coruscant's night sky.

The short journey to the Star Destroyer's hangar proved uneventful. In any case, had the trip been disrupted by another vehicle, Orson Krennic would have had no qualms in ordering the shuttle pilot to fire upon the offender. Nothing, and nobody, would stand in his path to success. Upon disembarking the shuttle, however, he was taken aback by a nasty surprise. As the white cloud generated by the shuttle's ramp began to fade, a tall, powerful figure seemed to materialise from the mist: Grand Moff Tarkin. Tarkin was Krennic's greatest rival, the man in the Empire who delighted in Krennic's failures the most, the man who aimed to seize control of the Death Star project from him. The mere sight of him sparked fury within Krennic, but he forced his face to remain passive. "Tarkin, good to see you," Krennic forced. He would not give the man the pleasure of addressing him by his title.

"Orson, I hear that the project is moving forward quickly." As Tarkin spoke, a smug smile developed across his face. He knew the issues that Krennic faced, of course, and he knew that he would be next in line to take control, should Krennic fail. The tension between the two men invaded the recycled air that inhabited the Star Destroyer. However, almost as quickly as it had started, the animosity appeared to dissolve into non-existence. Silently, both men had agreed that anything further than a few hostile words would be a poor example for the many subordinates that encircled them. "I shall show you to your quarters," Tarkin said, flatly. Krennic followed in silence, as those gathered in the hangar diffused through the ship.


	2. Chapter 2

During his many years of Imperial service, Director Krennic had learned how to hide his emotions effectively. It was a skill that had more value than many gave it credit for- being able to hide surprise or awe in respect of a fellow officer's achievements or actions was quite the useful asset in a system where one's rise created the downfall of another. The face that greeted him in the mirror, however, hid no emotion. He had not slept well during the journey on the Star Destroyer, and the fine, red lines that dissected the pure white of his eyes made that abundantly clear. Should anyone see him in this state, they would surely sense the nervous energy within Krennic that his face portrayed. It was a strange experience- Krennic did not feel panicked or nervous regularly, even when interacting with Lord Vader, or the Emperor. In the past, however, he had always held the trump card: Galen Erso. Both Vader, and the Emperor, knew that Erso was vital to the Death Star project. Only Krennic's relationship with him kept him with the project, making the Director invaluable. Now, however, he had let Erso slip through his fingers. Weeks of concocting excuses and sidestepping questions had kept him safe until this point, but Krennic knew that his ruse would soon unravel. A test of the weapon was imminent, and all he could do was hope Galen had proceeded far enough with his research that a minor exercise could be conducted, giving Krennic time to either locate the scientist, or deal with the consequences he had evaded thus far.

Convinced that his tumultuous mind, unsettled by these foreign emotions, would prevent any sleep, Krennic did not move toward his bed. Instead, he strode toward the desk placed in the darkened cabin that he had spent the past days in. His hands scoured the surface of the desk until they found their target: a smooth, metal ball that glinted slightly in the weak glow created by a bed-side lamp, which lay behind Krennic's shoulder. The feel of the cold object in the palm of his hand calmed Krennic slightly. He placed it on a thin protrusion of the desk, before stepping back, and allowing a harsh, blue light to conquer the crests and valleys of his face. He now stood within the most updated plans for the Death Star, a creation of unprecedented power and fearsome lethality. Currently, at only 15% capability, the beam created by this behemoth could annihilate the largest cities in the galaxy, and create fear and obedience throughout any sector. Construction was ongoing, and, once the station was complete, Director Krennic would wield the power to eliminate planets, and subjugate entire species through the mere presence of his creation. Of course, as the station began to fill its exoskeleton with habitable compartments, more materials, and more slave labour would be required. This resulted in more ships, more waste, and a greater chance of discovery by rebel elements. At this stage, any information leak would cripple the station before it had a chance to display its true capabilities. Thus, the project had to be relocated, and Scarif had been chosen. A tropical world, it was inhabited solely by indigenous species, which had had no contact with the outside world, and could be efficiently dealt with upon arrival. Located within the inner rim, the planet was close to major hyperspace lanes, but held no resources or benefits that had warranted exploration or exploitation. In many data-sheets of the sector's systems, it appeared merely as a lone dot, and did not receive the privilege of being labelled. Strategists were certain that this would ensure that the Death Star's chances of discovery were minimal. Should their certainties prove false, Krennic would be quick to deal with them- he could not tolerate failure.

Director Krennic strode briskly through the claustrophobic corridors of the Star Destroyer. Recycled air flowed into his lungs, and stark, bright light illuminated the rooms, leaving no indication of the infinite darkness of space which existed mere meters to the side. The ship was approaching Scarif, and Krennic would soon get his first glimpse of the world in reality. The heavy blast doors that guarded the bridge split apart at Krennic's approach. As he stepped through the doorway, Krennic heard ensigns and lieutenants straighten and make themselves look busy. Several men saluted, but Krennic ignored them- he would not acknowledge anyone who could provide no benefit to him. At the far end of the rectangular room, large windows revealed the view in front of the ship. Grand Moff Tarkin stood in front of the glass; his face's reflection mingling with the many stars in the distance, including one shining brighter than all the rest: the Death Star. The exposed reactor that provided this beacon of hope and harbinger of doom, depending on which side of the line demarcating chaos and order one stood, was vulnerable. Any disruption would be catastrophic to the system. As a precaution, at least a dozen other Star Destroyers prowled the area around the station, scanning for any incoming craft. An Interdictor-class destroyer cruised among them, its bulbous protrusion holding a gravity-well generator, that eagerly awaited the opportunity to ensnare any prey which ventured too close. Without any acknowledgement of Krennic's presence, Tarkin simply turned and flatly said, "A shuttle awaits.'


	3. Chapter 3

The relatively short journey to the planet's surface revealed that the outward impression of pristine beauty was merely a thin veneer, which was rapidly becoming scuffed and worn by the destruction of war. Explosions blossomed like pimples as lethal red flashes of energy flew from the hot muzzles of blasters. Crimson streams invaded the waters of Scarif, staining the clear liquid red. Simultaneously, plumes of sand grew from the beaches, as Tie Strikers raced overhead, releasing deadly parcels onto those unfortunate enough to stand below. Corpses of the native _Kareeh_ soon began to outnumber those of the advancing stormtroopers, yet the fighting did not appear to be calming. The lieutenant accompanying Krennic to the surface appeared from behind the heavy, grey doors of the cockpit. "Director, the aliens are providing greater resistance than we expected. We are currently in a holding position, and will land once the vicinity is clear."

"Presposterous, Lieutnant Ree," Krennic replied. "I will join the attack personally. Command the pilot to land this craft immediately!"

Visibly surprised, she turned and returned to the flight deck. Clearly, senior hierarchy taking in active role in battle was not a regular occurrence under Tarkin's command. As the shuttle tilted forward, Krennic drew his weapon and gave it a brief once-over. A DT-29, it was capable of causing immense damage for a short space of time, after which it needed to be reloaded. In effective use, it could despatch as many as six enemies before this. However, in incapable hands, the blaster became a liability, with its long reload cycle contributing as much to the soldier's death as the enemy that fired the killing bolt.

Director Krennic leaped the final few feet from the boarding ramp to the soft sands of Scarf. Almost as soon as his boots hit and began to sink into the surface, he was surrounded by two, 7 foot tall soldiers, wearing imposing, jet-black armour. They quickly took up defensive positions, and moved with Krennic toward the command tent which had been erected on the beach. The fading light of the setting sun glinted on their highly polished armour, in a manner which some would describe as beautiful. However, the arsenal of deadly weapons each man carried on his belt soon erased that impression, and would do far worse to any enemy soldier that captured their attention. Krennic's Death Troopers were genetically engineered to be superior soldiers. Unlike regular stormtroopers, they were not recruited. These men were taken at birth, and subjected to extensive experimental operations, in order to create the perfect warrior, with the singular aim of protecting the Director.

The enemy _Kareeh_ were hiding in a dense jungle at the far end of the beach. Extremely short, and covered in a fondant of dark skin, the natives were able to blend in effectively in the jungle, making it difficult for the stormtroopers to efficiently wipe them out. Krennic, however, did not have time to waste waiting for the stormtroopers to thoroughly comb the jungle. He took command of the situation, and recalled all Tie Strikers, instructing the pilots to focus on the thick foliage in front of him. Bluish-white proton torpedoes began to fall like rain. The resulting explosions shook the ground, and ignited the trees. As thick smoke, blackened by the rich supply of oil within the bark, began to rise, a mass migration of _Kareeh_ , from the jungle to the open beach occurred. "Open fire!" Krennic shouted, above the roar of the Tie Strikers. He began to compress the trigger of his weapon indiscriminately, aiming into the growing crowd of _Kareeh_. Uneducated in proper tactics, the natives panicked, allowing their brief resistance to fall apart. Corpses began to form mounds, tripping fleeing combatants, allowing a simple shot to finish them. The smell of uncontained blood began to invade the battlefield which the Empire had just claimed.

With the alien soldiers, dealt with, Krennic had ordered his men into the jungle, instructing them to round up any further members of the species they discovered. As Krennic strode toward the clearing where the prisoners were being held, lieutenant Ree approached him. "What shall we do with them, sir?"

"Put them all to work on the Death Star. Should any resist, I want them…" Krennic's voice tailed off, as his roving eyes were captured by a single alien. "Bring him to me," Krennic spat. The object of his attention wore colourful robes, complemented by fine metal jewellery. He was clearly too old to have taken part in the battle, but carried himself with a sense of infinite self-confidence. "What are you?" Krennic looked down his nose as he spoke.

The creature drew itself to its full height, an impressive feat for one so frail, before he stared into Krennic's eyes and responded. "I am chieftain Kyrell, leader of this tribe. You have invaded our lands, and shall face…"

The Chieftain's monologue was cropped by the loud bark of Krennic blaster. He fell to the ground, with two of his three eyes locked into a surprised gape. The third, newly created, eye leaked crimson blood onto the sand. Too old to respond, the chieftain had been unable to react to Krennic's swift movement. "Your only leader is the Emperor!" Krennic shouted. Several _Kareeh_ had fallen to the ground, unable to manage the trauma of Krennic's action. "Round them up, and load them onto a cargo shuttle. Should any resist, I expect them to be dealt with, Lieutenant." Without another glance at the grieving aliens, Krennic turned his back on the scene, and marched back toward the outpost that had quickly been erected.


End file.
